Chapter 9
Deck Nine
USS Redemption
Construction Yards (in orbit of Romulus)
Kalara breathed a sigh of relief as the turbolift doors closed, cutting off her view of the ambassador and both her aides. It was about time. She’d thought they’d never leave her alone.
The day had been one long nightmare. Her arrival on
Redemption had been bad enough. No matter how prepared she had thought she was, the sight of the same transporter room where she had arrived all those weeks before had been almost overwhelming. All of the feelings she thought she’d buried – her anger at losing her ship to a Romulan mad man, her frustration at how her life had swung so completely out of her control in the last few weeks – had come flooding back.
Before she’d even had time to recover, they had met with Sarine. Telling him that she would keep out of the day to day running of the ship and would never countermand his orders had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. Seeing him sat there behind that desk in
her ready room...
She forced herself to take a deep breath before her anger overcame her again. Things had just got worse after her confrontation with Malok. Although she now knew why he had been acting so strangely around her, she had been left with more questions than answers. Who was this supposed imposter? What did she want? More importantly, how by Kahless was she going to find her? Not for the first time, she wondered whether Malok was making the whole thing up. What did he have to gain though?
With a chirp, the turbolift arrived at deck twenty seven, interrupting her thoughts. The doors opened and she stepped off, taking a moment to orient herself before heading down the nearest corridor. She had been appointed guest quarters aboard ship, another bone in her craw.
Following the signs absently, she thought back over the rest of the tour. Captain Sarine had been as gracious as promised and Kalara had to admit that he seemed to care for the ship almost as much as she did. Still, none of that could prepare her for the most heart wrenching part of the visit: Main Engineering.
The moment she had stepped through those doors, all the memories had come flooding back. Ianto stood in front of the slipstream drive, the smell of smoke so thick in the air, the sound of his voice as he told her that it was meant to be… By the time Sarine led them up onto the upper levels, her hands had been shaking violently.
Just in time to encounter Sarine’s pet Borg. She still couldn't believe Starfleet Command had authorised their inclusion on her ship. And when she had seen what they had done to Ianto's engine room...
Despite her best efforts, she felt as if she was about ready to scream by the time she arrived at the door to her quarters. Tapping in her code, she stepped inside, then froze. She could hear noises coming from the bedroom, someone moving around, opening drawers. Searching for something. For her? Her hand reached for the knife at her belt, when Damien appeared through the door.
"Hey you."
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, relief warring with barely repressed frustration.
"Sorry. I called in a favour, got myself transported up with all our stuff. Are you alright?"
"Who on this ship owes you a favour?"
He tapped his nose and winked. "I have my ways."
“You should have warned me.” She knew she was overreacting, but all of the tension and stress of the day was catching up with her.
“I’m sorry.” He walked over and took her in his arms. She resisted him at first, then allowed him to draw her close. “I thought I’d surprise you. How was your day?”
"Don't ask," she growled, looking at him pointedly.
"That bad?"
"I
don't want to talk about it."
"Ok, ok.” He held up his hands and took a step back, smiling. “Who am I to question the mighty Kalara, daughter of..."
He was interrupted by the chirp of the intership comm system, followed moments later by a female voice.
"Ops to Lieutenant-Commander Kalara."
She frowned at Damien and tapped her badge.
What could they want? "Kalara here."
"Lieutenant, we have a priority one transmission for your husband. From the President’s office."
XXX
Kalara stared at him as if he had just grown a second head. Damien sighed. He had been half expecting this call eventually, though not quite so soon. The moment he saw the news this morning, he knew. Shaking his head, he nodded for Kalara to accept the transmission.
"Put it through down here," she said.
Holding up a hand to forestall her questions, he walked over to the comm system. Sitting down, he keyed in his access code and waited for the screen to clear. When it did, he wasn’t surprised to see his cousin, Jean-Luc Biseau, appear through the static.
"Damien? Is that you?"
"Hi J-L. Good to see you."
"How are you?" He could hear J-L forcing the breezy, friendly tone. Well, he wasn’t going to make this any easier for him.
“I’m fine. You?”
"Busy, as you can imagine. Have you been following what's been going on out here?"
"Not really," Damien lied as Kalara came up behind him. "J-L, this is Kalara."
"Your wife! Of course."
Kalara looked at Damien with such a look of repressed fury on her face that he couldn't help but laugh. "J-L is my cousin, Kali. My mother’s brother’s son. He is also President Baxter’s Communication’s Director.”
“Hello,” Kalara said, her voice tinged with suspicion. She hated politicians.
“Enchantee.”
“He also fancies himself quite the ladies man," Damien said, rolling his eyes.
"I always ended up with the girls you liked, didn't I?" his cousin teased.
"More often than I'd like but less often than you'd like to believe,” Damien shot back.
"You keep telling yourself that, Damien."
"So how are things in the President's office?" He wanted to get this back on track. He knew J-L wouldn’t be contacting him unless he wanted something, and he had a pretty good idea what that was.
"That's actually why I'm calling."
"What a surprise. What can I do for you, J-L?"
"Actually, I was hoping your dear wife could do me - us, rather - a favour."
"Me?"
Damien could hear the mistrust deepening in his wife's voice. He reached up to her hand where it lay on his shoulder and squeezed it.
"What's this about J-L?" He put a warning tone in his voice. He wouldn’t let him drag Kalara into this, not if he had anything to say about it.
His cousin sighed. "Damien, I'm going to put someone else on the line and he'll explain."
Jean-Luc disappeared and was replaced moments later by a brown-haired man with bags under his eyes and at least two day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks. "Mr Laurel, Lieutenant-Commander Kalara, my name is Colin Groves. I'm deputy chief of staff for the President."
"I know who you are Mr Groves,” Damien said firmly. “What can we do for you?"
"I heard you tell your cousin that you hadn't been following what's been happening here, so you probably don't know that early this morning Admiral L’mpec went on live television and told a room full of reporters that President Baxter is dragging his heels over retaliatory attacks against the Klingons."
I knew it. Damien pretended to process the information, then asked the obvious question. "And is he?"
He saw Groves stiffen. "The President is trying to keep all of his options open while cooler heads..."
"Please don't give me the party line, Mr Groves. I used to work the political beat, I know how it works."
For a moment, he thought Groves was going to push his line anyway, then he seemed to deflate. "We're doing our best, but the Klingons won't play ball. On one side they claim K’mpak was acting rogue, on the other they're rattling their sabers along the border. President Baxter does not want to be the president who drags this Federation back into war."
"And what exactly do you want Kalara to do about this?" He could feel Kalara glare at him, but he understood these people - he wasn't going to let them tie her up in knots so they could get what they wanted from her.
"I... I used to be Starfleet, but ever since this started none of my former colleagues will return my calls. I need to talk to someone in Starfleet, find out what is going on and get them to retract what K’mpak said."
"And you thought my wife could be your way in."
Groves ignored the hostile tone. "We need to get this resolved, Lieutenant-Commander,” he said, speaking direct to Kalara this time. “The sooner the better."
"I don't know what you've heard, Mr Groves,” Kalara put in before Damien could interrupt, “but I'm…” She looked at Damien. “What do you call it? Persona non grata?” He nodded and she turned back to the screen. “With Starfleet Command at the moment. I can try to get in touch with someone who may still talk to me, but I don't know what good it will do."
Groves nodded, looking crestfallen. "That's all I can ask."
"Actually,” Damien said, “I may be able to do something myself."
Groves seemed to perk up, while Kalara stared at him in surprise. "How?"
"An old friend of mine onboard
Redemption." When he saw the look on Kalara's face, he shrugged. "I didn't have time to tell you. I just met him today"
"And who is this friend?" she asked, her tone dangerously calm.
"The Press Corps liaison officer."
"Lieutenant Benouakhir?"
"You've met him?"
"Briefly."
"Well, we used to work together in my days on the Chronicle. I met him in the transporter room when I beamed up." He turned back to Groves. "I think I can talk him into helping us out. He has lots of contacts and knows how the game is played. At worse, he'll be able to tell us what Starfleet is thinking."
"That would be fantastic," Groves said. "I can't thank you enough."
"Don't thank me yet. We'll do what we can, but I've got to say, you guys need to get your act together on this one. We were here during the Klingon attack. We almost died. Kalara lost good friends. I don't know what line the Klingons are spinning you, but you need to make sure your guy doesn't let worrying about his legacy blind him to what is going on."
"We know," J-L said, appearing in picture again. "We're doing what we can."
"Alright then. I'll be in touch."
They said their goodbyes, and then the screen went blank. Damien turned to find his wife looking at him strangely.
"What?"
"I didn't know you knew so much about... Politics."
She growled the word as if it were a curse. He shrugged.
"You knew I used to cover the political beat for the Chronicle. You pick up some things."
"You seem to enjoy it."
"It can be fun. Hey, come on, what's the matter?"
"You still… Surprise me."
He grinned. "Good."
From the look on her face, she wasn't so sure. "Do you really think you can help?"
"It will all depend on Hakim. What about you?"
"I will speak with Admiral Kovoth. He may speak to me."
She reached for the comm unit but he grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?"
She frowned. "Contacting Kovoth."
He tutted, standing up and putting his arms around her. He leant forward until their foreheads were touching. "There's a human tradition I haven't introduced you to yet."
"Oh really?" Understanding his intentions, she lowered her voice to a growl. "And what is that?"
"It's called christening the new home." He bit her lower lip. "I think you'll like it."
Recovery Room
Sickbay
USS Redemption
Lieutenant Astrid Williams looked up as Doctor Malok entered her room in sickbay. She set aside the padd in her hands – she had been reading a historical novel set during the Occupation. It was one of the only thing she could still do. Although most of her injuries had healed, Doctor Malok was still worried about the damage to her spine and had ordered her to remain in sickbay for a few more days. She had been forbidden from exerting herself, even to stand up and walk around; She felt like she was going to go crazy.
She was about to ask him how he was when she saw the look on his face, and suddenly she knew why he was here. Her heart fell and her throat seemed to constrict. Although she had been expecting this visit since she had woken up in the biobed after the Klingon attack, it still came as a surprise. As time had gone by, and Malok had carried out scan after scan, she had begun to hope against hope that he wouldn’t find it. Now it seemed he had.
He knows, she thought. He knows my little secret.
"Good evening, Lieutenant." His voice sounded like a distant thunderstorm, low and rumbling.
"H- Hello doctor."
He seemed uneasy, as if worried how she was going to react. She glanced behind him to see whether there was a security officer waiting outside. The door shut before she could get a good look. "I was wondering if we could talk."
She swallowed hard. "Of course. Sit down."
He did, looking awkward as he squished his massive frame down into the small chair. He refused to meet her eyes, staring at the padd instead, as if wondering how to say what he had to say. Finally, she spoke just to break the uncomfortable silence.
"What's wrong, doctor?"
As if you don't know, a little voice whispered in her mind.
"I ran some tests on your genetic structure, Lieutenant. I'm afraid I’ve found some anomalies."
Here it comes, she thought. The thing she had been dreading her entire life. She opened her mouth to tell him that he didn't need to go any further, when he handed her the padd. "I'm afraid you have precursor genes indicative of Inchin’s Syndrome."
She snapped her mouth shut with an audible click. Taking the padd from him, she stared at the results. It took her little more than an instant to recognise that these weren't her genetic scans. She looked up at him.
"I..."
"It isn't declared yet,” he said quickly, assaying a reassuring smile, “and it may never do so. It marks a predisposition, that is all."
Luckily for her, her unfeigned confusion could easily be passed off as shock at his diagnosis. How was this possible? Someone must have switched her scans with someone elses. But why? Her mind whirled with questions, the most important being what did she do now? Before she could react, though, Malok stood up.
"I know this is a lot to take in, Lieutenant. I wanted to tell you now, to give you some time to process it. I’ll leave you alone now, alright?"
She was still too shocked to respond. She nodded, afraid of what she might say if she opened her mouth. The big Klingon gave her a tentative smile and then left her alone.
As soon as he left, she fell back in bed. Someone had switched her test results. Why? Did she have someone aboard ship, an ally of some kind, protecting her secret? Of course that brought her back to the same question – why? What did anyone have to gain by helping her? None of it made any sense.
She still lay there when the door opened and Jasto Dax walked in.
We'll be seeing a little more of this new faction in the next few chapters - it still has vaguely dirty connotations, but very different to what we're used to.
